Heat Wave
by PrussiaXAustria1000
Summary: There was something a little bit more than odd about the silverette, something strangely disturbing and alluring, that Austria couldn't place a finger on. PrussiaxAustria, Austria's "first time", although the two had never had a relationship besides from being fellow countries and beating each other up. Lemon. Please enjoy.
1. Unbearable Heat

**My first PrussiaXAustria. Frankly, my first lemon as well as my first fanfiction. But you don't need to worry-I pay close attention to grammar and spelling, so there will be few mistakes. I have also done my best to study the male anatomy in order to create a few of these scenes, so please. Be nice, and enjoy**.

* * *

There was something a little bit more than odd about the silverette, something strangely disturbing and alluring, that Austria couldn't place a finger on—at least, not solidly. It was true that Prussia claimed to be "awesome", a phrase that he uttered a many time a day; he was rude, noisy, rambunctious; he was unusually irritating, more so than anyone that the brunette had ever known; furthermore, he had little respect for personal space, and he certainly wasn't afraid to show everyone so.

Roderich Edelstein didn't know _why_ he dealt with that juvenile idiot.

He was only aware of the one fact that there was something unspeakably _strange_ about the albino, especially as of late. Something that he wasn't quite sure he wanted to know about. Perhaps Prussia had been unhealthily increasing his intake of alcohol? That could be the only reason to explain why he'd been puttering about, acting as if there was to be an invasion on Austria's home, lacing each doorway with dynamite and lining the hallways with… what was that he called them, "paintball guns"?

He had been shooting at Roderich with those guns, often spraying bright red paint down the front of the Austrian's best vest and jabot, and then he would run off, laughing maniacally. It was as if Prussia was deliberately _trying to attract his attention._ But then again, since when had Prussia every left him alone?

In short, Gilbert had seemed to have been playing far too many video games. It was definitely the heat.

"No doubt…" The Austrian murmured thoughtfully to himself as he paged through slightly crumpled sheets of intensely complicated sheet music, searching for something that might suit his mood today. "He drinks much too much beer." With an afterthought, he added: "It must be deteriorating his brain along with the heat."

Yes. This summer was terrifyingly scorching, and that, combined with a large enough consumption of beer and—what was it called—Xbox games, seemed like a suitable explanation. At least, it'd seem sensible if the Prussian had been tottering about the manor in a drunken stupor. There was no way for anyone to consume so much liquor without at least showing even _one_ sign of being heavily intoxicated…

The summer sun burned through the large windows that lined the walls, beaming down onto the pale skin on the back of his neck and making Roderich feel uncomfortably sweaty, and for once the Austrian regretted placing the elegant grand piano right beside the window. Perhaps he would have to move it, and soon, for he was aware that sunlight could wear out and fade paint—so it was likely the same case with his piano. He couldn't possibly allow that.

_I'll ask Germany to do it… but for now. Back to the topic of Prussia. Really… what could be the cause of all this strange behaviour?_

"So beer can't be the answer… maybe the heat is driving him mad by its own accord." Roderich hummed a few notes of "Türkischer Marsch", or rather "Rondo Alla Turca", by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart to himself, then set the sheet music down onto the stand, feeling satisfied with his carefully thought-out decision.

This was rather a fun piece to play, not at all difficult—it would hopefully give him some time to clear his mind, let him enjoy the light-hearted music and the bouncing, high-lifting motions of the fingers. Yes, perhaps this would be useful. It had been a while since playing this song, so perhaps he could refresh his memory of what having _fun_ could be like.

_Without_ Prussia around to burn down his house, or lay dynamite under his bedroom floorboards, or on the chandeliers—that man had an obsession with explosives.

He set his fingers on the piano's glistening ivory keys, a row of shining, beautifully contrasted black and white, and began to play. Slowly, cautiously at first, he was afraid to lose the rhythm—and then he began to move quicker, quicker yet, his fingers flying across the keys in a flurry of exact movements, each chord and key struck with such skillful precision that one might have mistakened the piano piece for a multiple-instrument piece; the sound was that beautiful.

Roderich had never felt so tense than in the past few turbulent weeks, and only now he realized it. The piano's lovely sound reverberated through the thick summer air, the cool keys clashing comfortably with the heated skin of his fingers. He felt a pleasantly excited tingle run down his spine, he so loved playing the piano, with all its endless combinations of chords and harmonious notes, the limitless abilities of the prospect of it all, and the thrill of the power he felt as he pushed the keys down, sweeping his hands down octaves and octaves, pleased him to no ends.

It was just _almost_ enough for him to take him mind off of the Prussian.

But no—the sight of the crimson-eyed albino stuck in his mind, as clear as if he had seen the other man only mere moments ago. Roderich squeezed his eyes shut—he didn't want to have to remember Prussia. Why? Why was he concerned for that ruthless troublemaker anyways?

_I shouldn't… shouldn't have to care!_ His fingers slammed hard on the piano keys, creating a sudden bang of discordant notes, at which he winced and quickly started over from the beginning of the measure, his face becoming livid at having misplayed the notes.

_I shouldn't have to care about that idiot. T-That moron!_ His hand nearly slipped off the keys, but he played on, eyes focused intently on the piano. _I don't care about him. He's… a bully. Always nagging at me, bothering me, being a hateful pain in the arse!_

He found his pace quickening suddenly, and he knew he was over his limit. He couldn't control the beat; he was far too distracted, too… what was that feeling? Anger? Confusion? Hatred?

_… No… It couldn't be…_ Had he become fond of Prussia?

"NO!" shouted the Austrian, his tired and stiff fingers still banging away at the ivory bars of the instrument that he loved so much. He suddenly felt so upset at himself, so digusted. _What was wrong with him…?_ "No! I have not grown fond of Prussia! I _hate_ him! Hate, hate, hate!"

_No. Calm down… Roderich, calm… Calm down. Don't get his tactics get to you. If they do, then… then you've lost… Lost at his game. Why do I even care about his little games?_

Pounding. Pounding, pounding, pounding away endlessly at the instrument which he channeled his anger out on. The third page of "Rondo Alla Turca" suddenly melted away and transformed into a furious performance of Chopin's "Etude Op.25 No.11 'Winter Wind'".

It was perfect. He had been needing to bang out his anger for so, so long. He needed something to do, something to play. Some form of beautiful music through which he could release his frustration through banging and pounding and slamming at the sturdy piano keys.

Thank the Lord that there was no one to hear him, or they'd have thought: "Mr. Austria's gone mad…" He was no doubt channeling an aura not quite unlike Russia's, full of anger and foreboding. But as angry as he was, his hands still played beautiful, beautiful music.

Loud and wild, yet orderly and classical, the music drifted up in a haze of unknown realities, desolate dreams, and burning hope, floating through the hallways and wafting through the empty corridors…

And caught a certain Prussian completely in surprise as he passed through the front door stealthily, a mischievous plot in mind that involved pranking Austria into falling into a lake near the manor.

"_Auch_… always on the piano." The albino snickered, stepping silently into the house and shutting the door silently behind him for once, not wanting to alert Austria to his presence. "That prissy little noble."

… Then again, that was why Gilbert was quite so fond of Roderich as he was.

_Ah…_ Gilbert's ears pricked at the sound of a familiar composer. _It's Chopin. He must be really angry, then… Oh well. That's even more fun for me._

Gilbert started to move towards the piano room, but he hesitated suddenly, his eyes narrowing as he stood in hastened thought. It would be unwise to push Austria into a lake _now_, of all times. After all, the musician was clearly not in the mood for it, and if he were to notify Hungary of the matter… well…

"I'll have a frying pan splitting my skull," mumbled the Prussian, finally slowing to a stop as he put a hand against the wall to lean in pensive contemplation. "That can't do! I'm much too awesome to have a frying pan give me brain damage. Heck, I'll take it without even blinking! _Kesese…_"

He chuckled dryly to himself, then paused to reconsider his plan. If he could help it, he didn't want Hungary after him at all in the first place—that was too high of a risk to run for himself, whether he was excessively awesome or not.

"Eh… guess I can't push Specs into a lake today." He scratched his head, groaning in disappointment. "And I was looking forward to all of that too… Maybe he'd catch a cold, and I'd have to lock him up in his bedroom… his…"

And it was there that Gilbert stopped altogether. "Say… _bedroom._"

No. He couldn't possibly be thinking… Well, too late now. He had his mind made up.

"Yup! I'm definitely going to do it. It's been _way_ too long since the awesome me's been wanting to do this…"

It had indeed been years that Gilbert had had this particular plan in mind. "He'll be too tired to give Hungary a call after my awesome operation is carried out… so I definitely won't get banged in the head with a pan. Ah! I know what I'll call it! Operation Awesome!"

Well… Operation Awesome was about to commence.

And Roderich Edelstein was its target.

* * *

Roderich played and played. He had no idea how long he was there, slamming away at his piano, but it must have been a good hour or two, because only now he had worn himself out enough to force him to give his fingers and wrists a short break.

Roderich lifted his hands off the keys and stretched his arms towards the ceiling, groaning in satisfaction as he heard a few quiet _cracks_ and small jolts in his back, and his spine didn't feel as stiff as before. It felt good to stretch and simply relax for a few short moments.

He felt a trickle of sweat trail down his back, and with a dawning realization he knew he was in too much clothing for his own good. The air was still unbearably scorching (not to mention he had been sitting at his piano in the sun for so long), and Roderich sighed quietly, starting to slowly lower his arms and considering a quick, cold shower—

No. That wasn't necessary. There was no one in his house, he had enough privacy to…

Roderich cast a wary glance around him before removing his outer coat carefully, folding and lying the elegant dark purple overcoat over the piano bench beside him. It was much, much too hot for comfort, and so he had to resort to this… With cautious fingers, he reached up and slowly undid his white jabot, sliding it off from around his neck and tossing it so it lay askew atop the jacket, followed by his light brown vest.

Honestly. Was he really resorting to this method? It was _quite_ ungentlemanly to walk about in so little clothing, was it not? But it was the heat of summer that was getting to him… He somewhat understood what about it would drive Prussia mad… Roderich could feel every small drop of salty perspiration upon his back and forehead, on his scalp, and he could feel the sun's rays digging furiously into the soft, pale skin of his body…

In his opinion, there was little choice: undress a bit or broil to death. Ever so carefully, Roderich's right moved to undo the first button of his dress shirt… then a second… and then—

… Suddenly his left wrist was snatched by a strong, iron grip that felt oddly—almost frighteningly—familiar.

"A-Ah!" Roderich was pulled so that he turned, facing the man who had captured Austrian's wrist in his hand. "P-_Prussia_?!" Immediately all feelings of any prior shock were washed away, replaced with an irritated scowl and a demand of: "What are you doing here?!"

It occurred to him a moment afterwards that of all people, Prussia had to be the one to catch him in less clothing than he would have liked—he was immediately appalled.

_Gott, why can't it have been Germany? Or even Switzerland, anything better than this unsophisticated… u-unsophisticated jerk!_ His mouth nearly moved to form the words, but he restrained himself.

"I'm here to play, Specs!" replied Prussia, a large grin spreading across his pale, white face. "Don't tell me that you didn't miss me, huh?"

"… I didn't," snapped Roderich, his facial features tensing at the mention of such a disreputable act as the notion of "missing" Prussia. "If that's what you came here to find out, then no. Are we done now?"

Prussia threw back his handsome head, sending his wild, stark white hair flying in all directions. "_Kesesese_! You can't seriously say that you didn't at least think of me while I was at West's place!"

Roderich gave a scoff of skepticism. "Not at all," he said coldly, turning his head away with an irking pride etched in every feature of that beautifully-sculpted face.

"Not at all, huh?" Prussia smirked, his crimson-red eyes glinting with maliciousness before they trailed over to the clothes sitting on the piano bench, then to Austria...

"You took your outer garments off," said the albino flatly, almost disbelievingly. "Since when were you so—erm—revealing?"

Roderich flushed slightly, glaring angrily back into the Prussian's ruby eyes. "And? What's so startling about that?" But immediately his other hand went to grab at his dress shirt, attempting to button it up again, a feeling of instant regret at having succumbed to the power of the heat. How embarrassing to be before Prussia, displayed in such a compromising situation—

"I've never seen you in a half unbuttoned shirt."

Roderich's face brightened slightly more; his arm went slack, dropping to his side, and his mouth opened to retort in frustration, still not pleased with the fact that he was being held tightly by the wrist, when Prussia said: "Must be the heat, hm? _Kesese!_"

Tensely up considerably, Roderich gave a small nod, his face hardening into an unkindly expression. "I at least have the right to find means of cooling off, don't I?"

"Yes. Yes, you do." Gilbert's eyes couldn't help themselves—they trailed across dark brown eyes, those of which were staring haughtily back at him, down a slender, pale neck, right down to the Austrian's light green tanktop that still concealed what could have been an already partially exposed chest. "But I never thought the heat would drive you to _this_…"

_Damn Austria. Has to go and wear a tanktop, huh… makes it harder for me. But, oh well. At least I already got him out of his top garments._

Roderich was disturbed to hear a sudden dark chuckle come from Gilbert, a low and frightening sound, and he gaped confusedly at Prussia as the latter unexpectedly moved a hand up to his cheek, murmuring: "Why don't I help you out with that, Specs?"

Austria flinched at the unwelcome touch on the side of his face—his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at this, and Gilbert laughed silently to see his face in such an innocent, adorable expression. "W-Wait… Help me w-with _what_?"

Roderich let out a sudden yelp, feeling his personal space much too invaded as Prussia instantly swerved down upon him to sit atop his lap, straddling the smaller nation efficiently. "Cooling off," smirked Gilbert.

Without a single moment's hesitation, the albino leaned forward—_and licked the shell of his ear._

Roderich's eyes widened; a jolt of _thrill_, _sensuality_, shot through his now rigid body at the completely alien feeling. "P-Prussia!" He tried to lean away from the albino, to move away, back, somewhere, but with the piano behind him, he was stuck, hopelessly trapped. "P-Prussia!"

His hands gripped the edges of the piano, sending a chaotic clatter of random notes throughout the still, burning air, and he stuttered in sheer shock: "Prussia! Wh-What are y-you… What are you doing?!"

Gilbert moved in slowly, ever so slowly, one hand still grasping at Austria's wrist, the other moving up to cup his chin, turning it and forcing the Austrian to look directly into his ruby eyes. The Prussian smiled at how warm and pale that flesh was—oh, it felt even better than he'd ever imagined! It was so soft and silky in his hand, and just feeling it gave him a thrill of ecstasy. He was closer than ever to Austria, and he _loved_ it.

"I'm helping you, Austria… _kesesese._ I thought you'd need a little nudge to get you to cool down! And nothing helps more than the awesome me… so… why don't you _play along_?"

His fingers trailed, ghostlike and faint, across the flushed red of Roderich's face, and the brunette shivered involuntarily, his entire form trembling with a surprising fragility. Gilbert could feel him, shaking so violently, and he felt a sudden pleasure from this. _He_, Gilbert Beilschmidt, the awesome Prussia, was in complete control. He was _dominant_, and for the first time in years of being nonexistent on a map, he felt satisfied—ambitious. Not even France could ever have gotten this close to Edelstein.

_He _wanted_ Roderich so badly. More than anything, even if he was offered his entire empire returned to him there and then._

"Austria…" Roderich heard the name whispered in heated breath against the flesh of his cheek, and he froze, helpless, as Prussia's hands wandered. It was such an odd, familiar, _hateful_ feeling, how the Prussian always grabbed him with that malicious laugh of his, planning some scheme or another… but now… it somehow felt…

"Feels different now, doesn't it, hm?" Roderich gave a violent start, squirming out of Prussia's grasp and leaning back, his amethyst eyes wide with horror.

"Wh-_Was_?" he gasped aloud, half-terrified at Gilbert's newfound omniscient nature. "What did you say?"

"Don't you like it, Austria?" Gilbert leaned forward so that he moved ever closer to the brunette man then before, and stared intensely into those lavender eyes, searching for truth and lies, order and chaos, hate and love—all of which he could see in those beautiful orbs that never hid their true nature.

_Oh, how he loved Roderich._

"L-Like it?" Roderich's eyes traveled from between those enchanting ruby eyes to those exploring hands, then back to the strange, bright eyes that had captured his. "What… What do you mean…?"

"Do you like it, Austria?" A light hand teasingly traced the small muscles of Roderich's lower torso, separated from his bare skin only by the tanktop and the almost completely-unbuttoned dress shirt. Gilbert again exhaled warmly, into his ear: "Do you like it?"

"P-Prussia… please… stop it…! D-Don't touch me like that! _Please!_"

Roderich struggled to move away, to push Prussia off of him, even begging the albino to just stop, _anything_. This was getting too far out of his hand, and something in the way the other man spoke to him elicited inside of Roderich a new fear, rising out of the depths of his mind. Something about that tone _scared_ the Austrian. There was something so wrong with this—and yet his clouded mind wouldn't let him think it through.

"Why?" whispered Gilbert, gazing down bemusedly when Roderich attempted to place both hands on the Prussian's broad chest and push him away. "Why should I? I won't hurt you…"

Roderich stopped, his arms going suddenly weak, his mind racing with horror at the prospect that Gilbert might _actually_ hurt him. "What do you mean?" He stared up at Prussia, pleading for answers. "Don't… don't do this… Please… I-I don't want…"

"Don't want what?" Gilbert's fingers had somehow reached the hem of his pants, and the white shirt that had been tucked in so carefully was pulled out without hesitance. With both hands, the Prussian reached to undo the last four buttons of Roderich's top, his watchful eyes taking note of every movement the Austrian made, counting down until the last button was pulled away.

With a yelp of protest from Roderich, Gilbert tore off the shirt with a frightful speed and tossed it carelessly atop the rest of the clothing beside them. The pile of fabric and clothes tumbled noiselessly to the floor, earning another whimper of confusion from the brunette pinned under him. With the shirt gone and only the tanktop between Gilbert and Roderich's bare chest, Prussia made use of the last few moments that Austria would be allowed to wear the wretched thing that kept the albino from touching his skin freely, as much as he wanted.

With a charismatic, soothing smile, he let the palms of his hand run down Roderich's neck, down the front of his torso, and watched the brunette shiver in distraught.

"P-Prussia! Please, stop it! It feels… feels… _strange_…" He let out a small noise of unfamiliarity, trying to wriggle away from the Prussian and only succeeded in banging the back of his head against the piano's solid keys. Roderich cried out in slight pain, a muffled noise that barely got past his lips.

That brought some of Gilbert's attention to Roderich's face. _Those lips…_ They were so pale, so alluring that he couldn't even try to show some form of restraint.

The next thing Roderich felt was Gilbert's strong hands on his hips, slamming his body down against the piano bench so that he couldn't escape, and suddenly Prussia's lips were attacking his own furiously, ferociously, with an animal roughness that Roderich had never felt before.

_What exactly is going on?!_ The weird sensation of the wetness and warmth of the other's mouth shocked Roderich into releasing a strangled sound of fear. It was muffled by Prussia's lips pressing against his with an unimaginable force.

The touch of Gilbert's lips was a strange one. The way those soft, almost cake-like lips invaded his own. Roderich felt his glasses begin to slide down his nose, and he tried to move to push them back up when Prussia unexpectedly slid his tongue into the Austrian's mouth.

_No!_ was the first thought that entered Roderich's mind, and in a panicked response, his own tongue moved to instinctively try to push the other's out. _This can't be happening! Prussia is _not_ allowed to… to kiss me!_

Gilbert, on the other hand, merely smirked, knowing that Austria could feel it against his own lips—those lips that were so luscious, so delectable; the Austrian's tongue didn't taste bad at all, either. It was sweet, heavy with the scent and taste of strawberry-flavoured pastries. Homemade, and baked rather well, too.

He silently wondered quite how long it would take to have the other succumb to his seductions. Surely not_too_ long—he was too awesome to be denied for such a very long time. That is, by anyone but Roderich Edelstein.

But he was determined. He would have Austria begging him to touch him, to _feel_ him, heated and pleasured beneath his skilled fingers. He wanted to see Roderich desperate for his hands, his lips… everything.

_Don't fight it,_ thought Gilbert, and simply pushed his tongue further into Austria's mouth. Roderich was too weak—the heat and the anger had exhausted him far enough so that Gilbert was able to put down his efforts to revolt against the oral attack. Gilbert felt that sweet tongue go slack and motionless in the other's mouth, and he smiled victoriously. _There we go… that's a good boy._

_It's useless._ If he could, Roderich would have let out a frustrated groan. But that was impossible with Gilbert's lips clamped over his. _He won't stop… He won't._

What was happening? What was Prussia doing to him, why, what did he want from Roderich? _Something must have been done to upset him,_ decided Austria, a strange twinge of pleasure shooting through his trembling body. He tried to repress it. _That's why… this is his revenge._

It wasn't too long before Gilbert had had his fun and drew back from Austria, smiling with satisfaction at the panting, heated mess that he had reduced Roderich to. Those damp locks of silky, chocolate brown hair hung in wild strands messily over his face, masking those purple eyes that Gilbert loved so much. His head hung exhaustedly to the side, his cheeks flushed with a dark crimson. Those lovely lips were covered in Gilbert's and his own saliva, the result of a passionate kiss mainly on the Prussian's part. Roderich lay there, panting exhaustedly, his legs dangling from the edge of the piano bench—Gilbert still straddled him tightly.

"P-_Prussia…_" He gasped breathlessly, his mind in a haze of complete confusion and some sort of wrangled,_wrong_ pleasure. He looked simply beautiful. "What… _why_…"

"Don't talk." Gilbert's hands began to search his body again, sliding up and down Roderich's chest, up his face, and, with one hand on the Austrian's cheek, he slipped the other under Roderich's shirt and onto warm, bare skin.

Roderich's gasp of surprise sounded sweet to Gilbert's ears—it sounded so weak, so helpless.

"P-_Prussia_!" He cried out again, slapping a hand to his mouth, trying to suppress his own noises, and tried not to panic as Gilbert's fingers and palms swept up and down his sensitive skin. Roderich bit back a moan of what he realized was _enjoyment_—he'd never before been touched like this!

Prussia chuckled to himself as he watched Roderich's eyes screw shut, and the other reached up to grab _his_left wrist feebly with a desperate whimper. Without a moment to waste, Gilbert moved up to his destination.

Roderich's eyes might have popped out of his head; he tried frantically to muffle a groan and a shudder that ran through his heated body as Gilbert brushed his fingertips across the brunette's left nipple. "A-_ah_! P-Prussia… _Prussia_…"

Roderich failed to restrain himself, and his first audible groan came tumbling lustfully from his trembling lips within the next few moments. What was this feeling tearing him apart inside? Hatred, anger, he wanted to scream in sheer frustration at the power that Gilbert held over him. And yet… yet… something inside his traitorous body yearned for the feeling of a muscular chest against his, pale lips licking at his own—ah, the thought of it! It made Austria want to thrash himself with a riding crop for allowing such feelings to invade him.

Gilbert, on the other hand, felt a wave of excitement rush through his own veins, threatening to make him burst. "Austria…" He tweaked the already erect nipple slightly, and Roderich was left a panting mess, already releasing those lovely sounds that Gilbert had always wanted to hear from him.

All of Roderich's defenses had collapsed at a few simple touches; he was no longer conscious of right and wrong, hate and love, enemy or friend—everything was the same. If only—oh, if only!—Gilbert could just _touch_him more! He tried to breathe, but everything seemed so… so _intense._

"Pru-Prussia!" He gasped the other's suddenly—he had no idea why. It would seem that he was not in control of his own body… it scared him, but he _loved_ what the silverette was doing to him. "I… I don't… _unh…_" He let out a sweet, low moan as that hand fondled with his body, touching him, tracing circles on his already burning skin.

"Can't control yourself, Austria? _Haha_… should've known you couldn't resist my awesomeness."

But despite the usual addition of "awesome" in his words, Prussia's tone had dropped, completely changing into something different, into a whole other level. The way those words were spoken dripped with poisonous honey, with alluring, sugary death, drowning Roderich in promises of love and savoury pain… he felt his trousers tighten considerably all of a sudden, and there was some unanswered need that had started burning inside him.

And his voice, his words, were no longer his own.

"Pruss—_Prussia_—aah…!" A groan of Gilbert's name melted into one of those beautiful noises that Gilbert wanted so badly to hear from the usually aloof nation. "Aah… ah! _Pl-Please…_"

Gilbert froze there and then. What was that? What was it Roderich had just said? Did he… Was he _begging _him?

"T-Touch me…" Gilbert nearly melted in the tortuous heat and the whispered pleads of his Austrian lover. "T-Take… _take me…_ F-For your own… Prussia…!"

Those pale eyelids were screwed shut in a sense of pleasure and suspenseful pain. How… How could Gilbert refuse him what he wanted? The fragile body beneath him had already reached a scorching warmth, seeking for the feel of the albino's body against his own. Gilbert could hold himself back no longer.

"Whatever the little master says…" he cooed seductively into Roderich's ear, earning a shiver of delighted anticipation.

Eager hands wandered down to gingerly brush against Roderich's rock-hard erection. "A-Ah!" The brunette's hips bucked violently, uncontrollably, into Gilbert's hand, and with a smile that Roderich, at the moment, perceived was of Satan's, the Prussian grabbed his hips, nearly bruising them, and rammed them down into the piano bench.

"No. Don't get too overexcited now... Austria…" He grinned an absolutely wicked grin.

Roderich let out a whimper of protest—how cruel could Prussia be, denying him what he wanted… what he_craved_? His throbbing member was beginning to experience a feeling not dissimilar to the burn of the heat. He couldn't stand being _denied_ what he wanted anymore.

"Prussia! Pru-Pru... Prussia! Do-Don't… tease… Don't tease me!" That smooth, heart-shaped face contorted into an expression of desperation, desire. He looked adorable, Gilbert decided, and decided to reward Roderich for his efforts.

Roderich's back arched—he moaned audibly as Gilbert fingered his erection gently through the fabric of his trousers, and, with a skillful hand, began to stroke the pulsing limb, then wrapping his slender digits around it and started pumping.

_Hard._

"Ah—mm! Pru-Prussi—A-ah! Please," Roderich nearly screamed, "Please don't stop! A-_ah… hah_… I-I… I…" All his words were lost entirely in cries of sheer pleasure, and Roderich reached up with both hands to grip Gilbert's shoulders, wanting to find something, _someone_ to hold onto.

"Austria…" Gilbert began to feel dizzy, his eyes locked on only Roderich's flushed, blissful face. "How does it feel?"

"Mmm…! Feels… it feels…" Roderich threw his head back, his body still thrusting into Gilbert's hand involuntarily. Jolts of pleasure shot down his body, through that needy erection of his, straight to his brain, and he gazed up dazedly with half-lidded eyes. "S… So _good_…"

"Well, don't even think it ends there." Gilbert removed his hand from Roderich's member, and the other man whined unhappily as the Prussian moved back and off of his lap. Roderich sat up, feeling light-headed, and suddenly stared down in shock at his fully-erected—

"O-Oh _mein Gott_!" He clapped a hand to his mouth, a small bit of sense penetrating his lust-filled mind. "I… I… What have I—!"

He felt Gilbert's finger press against his lips, and he flushed silently, closing his mouth. "No. Don't even speak. I'm not done with you yet, Austria."

* * *

**Whether you like what you read or not is for you to decide. If you dislike it, please back out of the page and don't leave spam. If you do, then feel free to wait for more as I finish this up. This will be a two-shot. If you enjoyed, please, watch or review.**

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**Thank you.**


	2. Moron

**It was quite fun to write this. PrussiaXAustria is my OTP, and so I'm glad I've dedicated my very first lemon and fanfiction to them. Again, please enjoy and let me know what you like about this.**

* * *

And then Roderich's pants had been snatched and pulled down his thighs, pooled at his ankles, and he found Gilbert very close to him, with nothing between the albino and Roderich's erection but the thin fabric of light crème-coloured boxer.

Gilbert nodded, his eyes on the Austrian, and he glanced down to peer at Roderich's need. With an approving nod at the brunette's unexpected size, his hand went up to snag on the hem of the boxers before pulling them down. Roderich barely kept in an excited whimper as Prussia discarded him of his pants, boxers, and expensive boots all at once, and his eyes went down to meet crimson orbs before drawing away in embarrassment.

He was completely naked under Prussia.

_No. Don't turn away from me._ Gilbert straightened up so that he was on eye level with Roderich, cupped his chin in his hand, and delivered to those beautiful lips a chaste kiss, murmuring into the Austrian's ear: "You're beautiful."

Roderich fidgeted, looking down shyly at the well-polished floors. Then he felt Gilbert immediately dropped to his knees, rubbing his hands along the inside of Austria's thighs, and, as Roderich shivered, he suddenly ran his tongue against the smaller man's erection.

"H—Hngh!" A cry of pleasure tumbled from Roderich's lips, and the heat increased inside him, tearing at his sides, burning his organs to ashes. "Pr-Prussia! _Preußen_!" He gasped, reverting back to his native language in that moment of shock.

"You like that, don't you?" purred the Prussian, smiling coyly up at him. "Then… you'll like this even more."

And with that, he engulfed Austria's entire vital regions into his mouth, sliding his wet tongue along the large, hard member and watching Roderich tremble, a shuddering mess before him. How he love pleasuring the man—it made him tingle inside to see Austria's eyes pleading him, to hear the little noises that escaped from between tightly-pressed lips, to hear him begging for _more._

"Prussia! Pl-Please! _Bitte!_ More, m-more!" Those amethyst eyes burnt deep into his soul, a perfect symbol of all he ever longed for, all he ever wanted. He tentatively began to suck at the Austrian's cock as the brunette let out a whimper.

"_Preußen_! Please! I… I…" Roderich's eyes teared up with the immense bliss, and it was then that he knew: he _needed_ Prussia; he needed the feel of another heated body against him, to feel a friction between his own legs and chest against another. Gilbert understood immediately.

"…" A wide grin spread across his face. "Of course. Gimme a moment, Specs."

And in the next moment, Prussia was lying completely naked atop him, pinning down his own sweaty body against the sweet coolness of the piano bench.

"O-_oh_! _Mein Gott!_" The friction of the two of them against each other—it made Roderich want to scream in such pleasure, yet such pain... such confusion… "_Gi-Gilbert!_"

"_Shh_," Gilbert pressed a finger against his soft, warm lips that were parting to make way for those lovely moans and shouts that made him want to feel even more, _more_ of the naïve Austrian. "You wouldn't want to alert the neighbors, would you…?"

Roderich could hardly answer, he only shook his head slightly, somewhat violently, his soft locks of hair falling over his shut eyes, his pale skin, and his expression spoke clearly to the Prussian: _I want you._

It was wearing Prussia out, all this waiting—never in his life had he waited for something he wanted. If he wanted Austria's vital regions, he would obtain them. If he wanted to launch an attack on Russia, he did as he pleased. Failure didn't settle well with the egotistical silverette. When he wanted something… it came to him, one way or another. Roderich's _love_ was no exception.

He rolled his hips, grinding himself against Roderich, the feeling of bliss escalating ever so high, higher than ever before. "_U-unh!_ A-Austria!"

"Prussia… p-please…" Austria's groans left him dazed and famished for more. "Prussia… More. Pl-Please…!"

Gilbert found himself chuckling darkly as he replied: "Are you sure you want to carry on with this?"

Austria let out a moan, a whimper, and nodded his head without any hesitation. He was desperate, deprived of Gilbert's loving touches—he needed them, he needed them now. He felt Gilbert take his hands and guide them up to the pale body above him.

"Touch me," he commanded, and soon those fingers that played Chopin and Mozart and Bach so beautifully were running across his chest and back, rubbing the scarred and calloused skin. Such skilled musician's fingers! It was no wonder that they tapped and squeezed at every inch of flesh they could find, that they knew how to play a body just the way they could play a piano; those hands enticed the richest of sounds from the albino's lips. "Ah… Roderich… your hands. They feel so…"

_Awesome_, the word rang at the back of his mind.

"P-Prussia…" Roderich was beyond control. His mouth moved of his own accord—his hands trailed across white skin pleadingly, needing, and he only pressed himself against Gilbert even more when the Prussian moved down to ensnare his lips.

"_Here_." His hand was led to a live, throbbing organ, and, with flushing a deep crimson, Austria's fingers curled around the erection hesitantly. "Touch me… here."

Roderich paused only briefly before his fingers began to stroke at Gilbert's hard member softly, then wrapped his fingers around it and began to pump, just as Gilbert had done for him earlier. He felt his cheeks heat up as he listened, observantly, to the small and subtle noises Gilbert made with each of his touches.

"D-Down…" Gilbert's words came in short, low breaths, and he struggled to regain his composure before muttering: "Down. O-on your knees."

Roderich's eyes widened slightly before he moved slowly, gracefully, away from the piano bench and down to the marble floor. _What… What am I doing?_ The thought only came to his mind once, drifting in the back of his lust-poisoned mind, before Gilbert, moving to spread his legs on the bench to give Roderich access, washed away all sense of reality with a single command: "Suck."

The brunette leaned forward, his soft lips brushing the tip of the erection, sending a shiver of anticipation up Gilbert's spine and causing himself to tremble in slight repulsion at what he was doing; but his body had taken control over its own actions, and Roderich only gave a small whimper before he irresolutely took Gilbert's vital regions into his mouth as far as he could.

It didn't taste nearly as bad as he thought it would. He expected something vulgar, something repulsive, but that wasn't it at all. He thought he tasted some saltiness, something sweet, perhaps—it was strange. Acidic, yet somewhat of a... _turn-on._

This Roderich realized as he began to slide his tongue up and down the member, tasting and prodding here and there, peering at Gilbert's face and enjoying how his lips twitched at the slightest movement, how his face twisted into the most… surprisingly, _adorable_ expression Roderich had ever seen from him.

"E-Enough…" Gilbert was panting, breathing huskily with the pleasure and feel of Roderich's tongue against him, his h. "That's… enough."

Roderich withdrew, and he was lifted up onto the piano bench, where Gilbert lay him down on his chest and spread his legs so that each fell on either side of the bench, where they dangled exhaustedly, too weak to move.

"P-Prussia… What…are you…?" Roderich felt tired, drained of energy, but he still summoned up the curiosity to ask Gilbert as the taller man positioned himself—to do what, Roderich wasn't sure.

"Don't speak. And relax yourself, Specs. It'll hurt more if you don't." Gilbert had been wondering whether to prepare the brunette or not, and then decided that it wasn't necessary. He wanted to see Roderich's face contorted in pain, anyways, before he came, crying his name—

Roderich was wondering what on earth the other man was talking about when suddenly—"Pr-Prussia!" What are you doing?!" He felt the head of Gilbert's cock against his entrance, and instantly his mind was able to comprehend what was going on—what _had_ been goin on—and for the first time he felt the tremour of shock running through his body.

"I'm going to make you scream in pleasure," the albino murmured against his ear. And then Gilbert had pressed into him, pushing deep into Roderich's entrance as the brunette's lips parted to let loose a high shout of sheer _pain_.

"A-Aah!" His back arched with the awful, burning feeling of it, the heat against his back and legs, the sun scorching his skin—"Ah! _Prussia… Preußen_!" The first traces of tears came to the corner of his eyes, and he shut them desperately, wanting to feel empty and calm and peaceful without this horrible intrusion in his body.

"Shh, shh…" A calloused hand reached up to wipe the small tear that had begun to drip singly down Roderich's cheek. "Don't cry. It always h-hurts at first…" Gilbert grunted at the uncomfortable tightness of Roderich's virgin body, shifting deeper in, slightly, to try to give himself some room...

"O-_Oh!_" Roderich's eyes went wide, suddenly, and he lowered his head, propping up his elbows on the piano bench to try to hold himself up as a shot of pleasure rocketed through his slender body. "Pr-Prussia!"

"Heh… found it, didn't I?" Gilbert moved slightly against that same spot, and Roderich let out another yell of ecstasy. "That there, Österreich," he said, fancying the use of Austria's name in German, "is your prostate."

Roderich let out a small stream of mild cursing, and as Prussia pushed deeper into him, against that spot that caused him to moan excitedly, making the room spin as pleasure rushed through his needy body, he muttered: "Damn… damn, damn, damn!"

His legs moved up to wrap around the Prussian behind him, and Roderich found himself ramming into Prussia's body, moving with the latter's motions, and rocking himself to the sweet symphony of moans and cries that echoed through the empty room.

"Pru-Prussia! _Unh_… i-it… it… feel so _good_… Ah!" Roderich's breath became shorter, his words moaned rather than spoken, and Prussia found himself nearing the edge as he listened to that beautiful, soft voice speaking his name. He reached around and under the Austrian to stroke him as he continued thrusting in and out of Roderich, inducing sweet and pleasured whimpers from his lover.

Before he knew it, Roderich had let out a last long, piercing cr y before coming into Gilbert's hand, his elbows slipping out from under him as he fell, his chest against the bench, panting in exhaustion and a fading excitement. Gilbert took that as his cue—he'd been waiting far too long…

"Austria… I… I'm going to…" He had barely finished his sentence, but he knew that the other understood. And with a grunt and a loud groan of pleasure, he had come inside of Roderich's tight, warm hole.

* * *

They lay there for the longest time, for minutes, perhaps half an hour, with Gilbert still inside Roderich, hot and sticky atop the black, leather piano bench. The smaller man hadn't moved, and the only sound Gilbert could hear from him was the soft, rhythmic breaths that came from his lips, slow and beautiful. Even without an instrument, Roderich, to him, could still make beautiful music. Every noise that came from the brunette was music to his ears—his nagging shouts, his pouts of irritation, and just a while ago, the low pants and moans that sinfully tumbled from his mouth as the Prussian had forced himself inside him.

Wait. Gilbert tensed up slightly, suddenly, as the word wafted innocently into his mind. _Forcefully… forcefully… Oh, God no._

And Gilbert realized: _Gottverdammte… I just raped Austria._ His jaw hung slack from the shock of it, the unexpected revelation. _I just raped him, goddamnit!_

The man that he secretly loved. The one with whom, in his fantasies, he held a forbidden love for, the one whom he cried to in his sleep as he silently, noiselessly satisfied his libido for with his own hands.

He'd just _raped_ Roderich Edelstein.

"… Pr-Prussia?" Crimson eyes snapped to attention as he gazed down momentarily at Roderich before he quickly glanced away, wanting to avoid any form of eye contact. "Prussia…"

Gilbert inhaled deeply, searching for the words to explain what he had done and unable to find any suitable, sorrowful explanations that would suffice to express his apologies. Fuck, apologies weren't even enough to cut it. What was he going to…?

"_I'm sorry._" The words fell quietly from his lips, those sinful lips that had kissed up and down Roderich's pale body with hardly a hint of shame, and now he was to pay for that guiltless fun he'd had with the Austrian.

Gilbert got up and picked up his clothing, dressing himself as quickly and messily as possible. Roderich rose to a sitting position on the piano bench, watching in confusion as Gilbert tried desperately to smooth back his hair to hide the fact that he'd recently raped a fellow nation.

"… Prussia?" He couldn't help but grow nervous. Was… was the Prussian going to leave him? "What… Where are you going?"

"I… I'm s-sorry, Austria. I…" He stood, his back to Roderich, gulping as he searched for the words. Still couldn't find any.

"Sorry… sorry for what?"

There was nothing for it. He'd have to explain, as quickly as he could. Cut straight to the point—no denying it for any length of time.

"_I raped you._"

He spoke choppily, stuttering, as his face heated up unbearably—and then the tears began to fall. _God no. I can't… can't cry. I… I'd look so weak… damn it… But what can I do? I raped him. I deserve every bit of it. Everything that he has to throw at me... I'll have to take it._

He waited. Waited for Austria to throw something heavy at him, to have the brunette split his skull with the vase on the nearby table, for anything. He waited for the hurt and pained screams that would surely follow, that _had_ to come. For anything. Why the hell did Roderich have to be so quiet about this? Was he that shocked? Disgusted? Surely…

"… It's not rape."

That was not what he expected. "What the hell, Austria!" He felt a flame of anger flare up in his chest, something that came involuntarily, unexpectedly. He had just sexually abused and raped this beautiful, this wonderful man—what the fuck about was not rape?

"What is that supposed to mean?! It was rape! You protested it! I ignored you, like th—like the moron that I am! What the fuck are you talking about—'it's not rape'?! Of course it i—!"

He was cut off by the feeling of a pair of soft lips on him, and without realizing it, he'd blushed lightly, his pale skin lightly tinged with pink, as Austria murmured into his ear: "… It's not rape if I liked it."

"You… You liked it?" Instinctively, Gilbert's hands had crept to Austria's waist, and he nearly withdrew when he realized it, but somehow… somehow he couldn't tear away from Roderich. "What… You hate me though. That's what you're trying to say, right? You liked it, but you hate me."

"No… no, Prussia. That's not it. That's not it at all. Moron." Austria bit his lower lips slightly, trying to find some few words that would express what he felt now… this burning passion inside him, tearing at his insides like a fire, like this heat wave that had struck him—that had led to all this.

"_Ich liebe dich, Prussia._."

"… You do? You really do?" The albino's right hand went to cup his chin, tipping it up so that Roderich would look at him. "You're… not lying?"

Roderich scoffed. "Idiot. Why would I lie about something like that? I mean it: I love you, Prussia."

He nearly winced when Prussia buried his face into his shoulder, murmuring, "Thank God, Austria. I thought you seriously…"

"Seriously what?" Austria moved away a bit, a concerned expression on his usually irritated face, but now… now, those enchanting amethyst eyes looked upon him with every hint of passion, of love. He couldn't be lying.

"Never mind about that." Prussia grinned and pulled the brunette into a tight embrace. "It's just that… I've been waiting a long time for this…"

"… Really?" Roderich pressed his cheek against the muscled, toned chest of the albino, now masked by his half-buttoned shirt, feeling somewhat confused, but he still indescribably joyful inside. Something that could only be expressed by music… and those three, wonderful words…

"I love you, Prussia." He held the silverette's body against him, not wanting him to pull away, to leave. If only this moment could last forever, and he could compose hundreds and thousands of beautiful songs just to describe this touch, this magical feeling… "I love you so much."

"… _Ich liebe dich auch, meine Blume._.." Prussia paused, a smile lighting upon his face, before snuggling closer to Austria's unclothed body, his lips touching the brunette's gently. "Just one more thing."

"… what is it?"

"Call me Gilbert."

"Fine… And call me Roderich… _moron._"

Roderich surely had not changed into the least, grinned Gilbert as his lover wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him in for another passionate kiss.

* * *

**Again, I hope you've enjoyed this fanfiction. If you did, that's great! You can keep an eye on my account for more PrussiaXAustria or lemons, and requests are open. If you liked this story, visit me on my more active account, PrussiaXAustria1000 on deviantART, or visit my new parter, GermanyXItaly1000 on deviantART. We have a new partnership with RussiaXAmerica1000, so if you like this fanfiction, visit all of us for more.**

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**Thank you!**


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